


Thursday August 25, 2016

by WanderingSummerBreeze



Category: Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:57:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7942075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingSummerBreeze/pseuds/WanderingSummerBreeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 3 has begun and Sam comes home a bit dirty from filming his Culloden scenes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursday August 25, 2016

Thursday, August 25, 2016 – late evening

 

I hear the rolling crackle of the gravel in the drive travel through the open window like a Roman candle igniting. I lean back against the bed pillow listening for his voice as a car door opens then shuts again. I smile, hearing his happy, yet exhausted sigh of goodbye to Davie. Heavy footsteps unceremoniously die out as the car retreats and the headlights turn direction, descending the house into slumber once more.

The foyer light that I had left on, anticipating his return, extinguishes, leaving my little bedside light to take on the impossible task of keeping things bright. The footsteps grow louder up the stairs and my heart races, despite knowing who it is, there is always fear of something emerging out of the darkness into the light. I pull my knees, and the laptop that resides atop them, closer to my chest and watch as his large shadow passes the wall to finally bring its owner to the entrance of the room.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and he grins, "Not a ghost."

Insulted and mildly annoyed at being called out on my girlish tendencies of fear, I snap back, "I know that." I hear a hmpf as he passes the room toward his dresser. I relax and take in his look. He's completely dishevelled. Quite obviously he has taken a shower at work, but certainly a rather quick one as his face still holds the day’s soot and grime in full view. "Tough day at war, soldier?"

I hear another hmpf as he pulls some black boxer briefs from the drawer, then shuts it, "It was. And cold." 

He turns and settles his eyes on me. I'm wearing an ivory silk chemise with lace covering the cups. Just subtle enough that the Merlot of my nipples show through. The duvet is collected loosely around my hips with Eddie contently purring near the edge of the bed.

"Mrs. Heughan, by the looks of things, you appear to be very cold."

I don't reply right away, but merely do my best attempt at looking as confused as a school girl getting caught with her panties around her ankles and how they possibly could have gotten there, "Why Mr. Heughan, whatever do you mean."

With great confidence he strides to the side of the bed, sitting himself close to me. He holds my gaze and with his free hand, brings it to my breast. He cups one, then lazily runs his thumb over the nipple. The already hardened nub strains against the rough lace. There is no smile spread across his features, just pure lust. 

"This is how it should be. A man working hard all day and coming home to his wife all ready for him in bed in... this. Definitely this," He finishes by travelling down the smooth, cool silk of my ribs.

"Careful there, darling. You're starting to sound like your little Twitter friend."

He abandons my breast and gives me a don't start look. I shrug. He lightly tosses his shorts in his hand before catching them. Releasing the mattress from the strain of his size, he gets up and heads out into the darkness. I watch as he, then his shadow, abandons me for the bathroom.

I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have mentioned THAT man, but I occasionally sign onto Sam's Twitter and read his notifications. He's tried to explain his friendship until I always end up telling him it's an infatuation with a childhood hero. Sadly, it has come up more than once in our marriage and that baboon, because he's a giant ass that begs for attention, has hindered more than a few would-be sexy times. Ultimately, one of us apologizes. If not in words, in actions, and all is well until something else starts in Twitterverse.

There are days when I desire to just say Fuck it! and tell everything to everyone. But then I wouldn't have my life. We wouldn’t have our lives. I don't know if that really justifies all the pain I see on social media, but I have to believe it does. Because some day all this will come crashing down, so we have to grasp onto our here and now as tightly as we can until the truth finally breaks free and the world points its finger in anger at being lied to.

I watch the curtains dance across the floor in shadow and light with the soft Scottish breeze and slowly turn my attention back to my laptop. I type our names in Google images and see a plethora of photos fill the page. I scan through them, remembering the moments just before or shortly after a photo was taken. The photo just before our New York premiere where we helped calm each others nerves beforehand with soft touches and quick releases. Our People’s Choice win with our hands, none-to-casually, stroking each other as we grasped the award together. The perverted joke Sam made afterward of using it as a sex aide and my response that his was the only hard thing going inside me that night…. although the phallic-shaped award did make an appearance…and subsequent disappearance, inside me briefly. Well, the tip anyhow.

My God, if anyone ever found THAT out. I laughed then and shut the notebook closed. I slinked out of bed, eliciting an annoyed hiss from Eddie who promptly jumped off the bed and headed to settle herself on the chaise near the window. 

I headed toward the bathroom, pushing the half-closed door open, its protests failing against the loud rumble of water a few feet away. I could see Sam clearly through the glass door. His back was to me, washing his shoulders. His graceful but strong shoulders that had carried my weight more than once. I stripped myself of my chemise, leaving it pooled on the floor and stepped forward, opening the shower door, its click bouncing off the small interior. Water cascaded down his back as he stilled his movements.

“Took you long enough.”

I reached out, running my hands up his back, to his shoulders then down again around his waist and leaned into him. I inhaled his scent. While mostly soap, there was still his own personal perfume there as well. The smell of pure unadulterated man. I loved his smell. It changed throughout the day. From the still lingering between sleep and awake, to sweat from the gym, to traces of whisky and outdoors. “I know. I’m sorry,” I say and I mean it. 

He turned in my embrace and allowed one arm to fall to my hip as the other held my chin up to him. He leaned in and kissed me. Slowly at first, then building and letting the blood rise to the surface. He finished off the kiss with a little lick to my lips then a soft kiss on my nose. “Wash my hair, woman.”

“You really are enjoying this rare time of me being at home while you work, huh, part timer?”

“I am. I like coming home to you,”

“And I like you coming home to me as well,” I leaned up and kissed him briefly. I grabbed the shampoo and squirted just the right amount into my hands. We both smiled, almost laughing, as I rubbed my hands together, getting a good lather. He tilted his head forward to allow me to gain access to his hair. I listen to his soft groans as my skilled fingers massage his scalp. With his head tilted forward and my body reaching up to carefully wash his ginger locks, he seized the opportunity to take hold of my breasts that reached for him.

He held one breast in his hand and licked the nipple of the other, sucking as much of my breast into his mouth as possible. His other hand was planted firmly on my lower back, urging my body toward his as my hands fell to his side. He finally let go with a loud pop and my feet found the floor again as he leaned his head back under the cascading water, running his hands through it for thorough rinsing. I dropped a large dollop of conditioner in my hand and he took half of it in his, “I’m not letting you put that much conditioner in my hair. I’ll be Curly Sue in the morning.”

“You’ll be Curly Sue anyhow. And you’re not shooting till tomorrow afternoon.” I reminded him, but he still gave me a look and conditioned his own hair, rinsing it off under the water.

I watched him and smiled as he shook his head, water droplets flying everywhere. “Ah, stop!” I laughed then tried to push him aside to gain access to the water, “Let me under. I’m starting to freeze.”

He gave me slight grief, then finally moved to the side. I stood under the water, facing him. His nipples jutted out in the cool air, longing for the heat of the shower, but the coolness did nothing to dispel the hardness between his thighs that was begging for attention. His eyes darkened as they left my gaze and travelled down my body ever so slowly. I saw an intake of breath as he paused at my pussy. The water flowed between the short patch of hair I typically leave at the top, rippling through my lips, then down between my thighs, a little river of water escaping the path and running further back toward my ass.

He reached out then, a thumb coming to rest on top of my clit, while his knuckles, making a fist, traced up and down my opening. I closed my eyes enjoying the sensation. “I can feel your heat, Caitriona. My hand in nearly on fire,” he finished as he pulled his hand away. I opened my eyes to find him staring into mine. “I want to wash you.” I watched as he pulled the body wash from its shelf in the shower and pulled me free from the warmth of the water so that we both stood, goose-fleshed, in the cool air.

I felt, rather then saw him pull one of my arms forward. He held the bottle upside down above my arm and gradually let a trail traverse from my shoulder, down to my hand, then did the same with the other. There was a slight curve of a smile on his face as he continued to spread copious amounts of liquid all over my body. He didn’t touch me, just let the bottle’s contents leave their impression on my skin. He looked like Picasso studying his latest piece and being extremely satisfied at the final product.

Sam dropped the bottle to the floor and grasped both of my hands in his, lifting them high above my head against the glass wall. With painstakingly slow motions, he moved his hands, one on each of my arms, up and down like he’d do with his cock, readying himself for me. 

Up and down they went, and with each stroke, the lather began to build, bubbling up over my skin. He pushed both his hands up to thread our fingers together before abandoning them for the firmer territory of my waist. He kept his hands still for a moment, simply moving his thumbs back and forth over my skin causing a fresh ripple of goose -bumps. He leaned in, taking a nipple in his mouth once more, before pulling free and allowing his soapy hands to cup my breasts. He kneaded them and lightly pinched my nipples.

“Ssssaaaaam,” my head rolled back against the glass in absolute pleasure and he looked at me. Taking in my highly aroused state, he seized my mouth in his as his hands continued their assault on my breasts, then lower to my abdomen, then lower, sneaking in between my thighs.

He pressed his body to mine, our bodies slippery with soap, we grinded against each other. His right hand rounded my ass to push it against his straining cock. We writhed and thrusted against each other, our kissing becoming hungry with need and desire to possess each other. He pulled free, all assaults on my body stilled, but I grasped for him, needing the contact. He stilled me, “I need to taste you,” he whispered. He placed a kiss to my nose, then softly on my lips before he dropped to his knees.  
I spread myself for him as he turned himself around on the small surface floor, so that he could dip his head right between my thighs, coming face to face with my very ready pussy. His tongue lightly touched me, simply tracing a line around my lips first before delving right in. His arms wrapped themselves behind me and took hold of my ass. One hand on each cheek, he pushed me into his waiting mouth. I reached back with one hand and ran my fingers through his hair, urging his tongue, his face, deeper. I began to feel the pressure build and he gripped tightly on my cheeks as I rode his tongue inside my body to completion. I jerked and shuddered, nearly collapsing as his hands left my ass and stroked up and down my legs, lathering them, to ease me back to consciousness.

I could feel Sam drinking in the last of my orgasm right before he kissed my folds and came out from between my thighs. He stood before me, kissing me deep and slow. He tasted of soap and me. I gasped for air as he pulled free and placed me under the waters spray, wiping away the suds.

When full awareness finally set in, I made a grab for his cock, but he quickly pushed my hand away. “No,” he said in all seriousness as I blinked away water droplets from my eyes. “I’m ready to explode and I mean to cum inside you, properly.” He shut the water off, opened the shower door and stepped out, his very erect penis bobbing at the movement. He extended a hand and I took it, stepping out to join him. 

Steam hung in the room like fog over the Thames River, and the air was as crisp as a January morning in Glasgow, but we neither felt nor cared about either. He drew me to his body, lifting me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, trapping his cock between us. Our tongues explored every inch of each other’s mouth as Sam walked us back to our room. I clutched at his back and held on for dear life, causing a few shaky steps along the way, until he hit the end of our bed and dropped me onto it.

I scurried back toward the headboard, but he grabbed my ankles and stilled me, holding me in place briefly before standing erect again. I glanced down toward his cock, his testicles were pulled tight against it and I found myself licking my lips, instinctively, then looked back to his face, catching the darkness in his eyes. He was about to pounce and claim his prey for the taking and I was more than ready to give myself over to him willingly.

He jumped on the bed then, and thrust one of my legs high in the air, above his shoulder, opening myself up to him completely. I let out a loud moan then and an even louder one, mingled with a scream of intrusive passion as he entered me swiftly. He didn’t take his time, just heaved forward, pushing every inch possible inside me as I scratched his back hard enough to draw blood. He held my face in one hand as the other was underneath my raised thigh, aiding his assault on my body. 

In this moment, there was nothing but him and me. Nothing but the animalistic grunts and sounds of two people straining for release and ownership of each other. Later, we would make love. Later, we would whisper romantic sentiments to each other of dreams and future plans. But now, now, we prayed to the Gods to somehow allow each other to completely enter each others bodies and never leave.

Now we would find release and comfort in knowing our existence in this world lies solely on the existence of each other. Together. We came together in shattering silence. Mouths open, yet no sounds escaped. Vocal chords scratched and strained, and at the mercy of our bodies purely escaping themselves, heading to absolute oblivion together.

We lay connected in silence, our breathing, quietly synched, gradually going back to normal. Finally, with a pain I cannot even form into words or thought, his body parted from mine and we lay side my side, arms touching, his seed slowly leaving my body to join the soaked bed-sheets beneath me.

A few moments later he turned to face me and I to him. He smiled, “Did you have a good day?”

“I suppose. I think I’ll be happy when I’m back at work though. With you.”

“Hmm, we have a couple of months before that’s going to happen, I think.”

“True,” I looked away a moment, then back to him, “I guess we’ll just have to spend as much time together as possible then.”

“Well, I have that con this weekend,” he said with a glint in his eye, “I’ll be all alone in my hotel room in London. I may have to call for a woman to entertain me.”

“Ha!” I said and laughed, “I’ll check my calendar. I think I may just be able to pencil you in, but it’ll cost you.”

“Have rates gone up since last time?” he inquired.

I rolled on top of him, straddling his chest, “Everything always goes up, given enough time,” I said with a raised brow and a wiggle of my butt against his semi-flaccid penis.


End file.
